I Carry Your Heart With Me
by FrauKatzen
Summary: (i carry it in my heart) The memory of Albus first year, begging not to go to Hogwarts, came to mind. So little and scared, his tiny hands clinging to Harry as though he could save him. Perhaps this was inevitable.
Six years had passed since Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter signed the divorce papers. In that time, their relationship had not improved. If anything, they were colder towards one another than they were when they first cut the knot. This may have had to do with the fact that only two of her children had chosen to stay with her after the divorce, the other insisting that he wanted to reside mostly permanently with his father.

Harry and Ginny, after an almost peaceful splitting of assets that was in direct conflict with their disruptive home life, had decided to allow their children to choose which parent with whom to live. Both Harry and Ginny had day jobs and took care of their children in equal measure. They wanted their children to have stable home lives, and that would be unattainable if they spent their time splittingly at both homes. James, who had always stoked favor to his mother's nurturing—if a bit bold—nature, chose to stay with Ginny. Ginny took this to mean that Lily and Albus would stay with her as well, for they were too young to decide, and she didn't want the siblings separated.

Harry was resigned to this as well—rather disappointed, yes, but he would do anything for his children and their happiness. He reluctantly agreed to the terms of the divorce settlement. What the pair hadn't counted on, however, was Albus' protest and depression. The boy, merely five years old, had begged to stay with his father. Harry (who was secretly a bit partial to his second son, although he'd never admit it) had talked to him, explaining he had to stay with his mum and siblings.

After that unpleasant discussion, in which Albus cried and pleaded with his regretful father, the boy had been returned to his mother's house with a broken spirit. The environment, which had taken him away from his beloved father, who had spoiled him with treats and healed all of his wounds with flashy magic, pushed Albus into a depression. He was nearly always cranky, an unusual trait for the normally easy-going child, and lost weight from his already skinny stature, refusing to eat.

Even his and his siblings' biweekly weekends at their father's home couldn't take him out of his funk. It was obvious to his mother, though, that Albus cheered up exponentially as soon she Flooed them over to Harry's place for his visits.

"Da!" Albus would yell, flinging himself onto Harry as soon as he walked in the room, nearly always before his siblings.

Harry would pick up his son, tapping him on the nose, smiling and asking him what he had done that week. Albus would recount happily, snuggling up under his father's chin and smiling. James and Lily would receive similar hugs, but their enthusiasm was not as high as their brother's, nor were their spirits normally as low as his before the visits. Ginny would then leave, allowing the four to bond.

Harry would return the three children home two days later, James and Lily hugging their father before bounding off to their rooms to put their things away. Albus, however, would stay with his father longer, attempting to get him to look at a picture he drew or a book he wanted to read.

Harry always sent his son a soft look, allowing Albus to grab his hand with his smaller one and lead him off to the kitchen or his bedroom to bring him to what he wanted Harry to see. Ginny, on such an occasion, carrying the laundry basket through the upstairs hallway, had walked by Albus' cracked door to see him tucked up against his father as Albus read him a story on the bed, sitting side by side, Harry's arm around Albus' shoulders. She stopped to observe for a brief minute. Albus slowly sounded out the words. Every time he didn't know one, he would look up at Harry coyly, and Harry would help him sound it out. She left the doorway quietly, neither knowing she had ever arrived.

The look on Albus' face as he looked up at Harry, an adoration she had never seen from her youngest son, made her decide. As heartbreaking as it was for her, she approached Harry a day later, knowing what she had to do. Harry and she may not have been on the best of terms, their split a result of work conflicts and constant fighting, but she had decided it was the right choice to ask him to take Albus. The notion was further confirmed as soon as she saw the look of suppressed hope on her son's face after bringing up "Living at Da's house." She told Harry about Albus' attitude around home, and he agreed that perhaps Albus should try and live with him for a while.

Albus moved in with Harry a week later, much to their happiness and Ginny's sadness. Now it was Albus coming to visit his siblings and mother every other week at her house, and Lily and James visiting the opposite weekend at Harry and Albus'. It killed Ginny to see Albus change back to a rambunctious little boy under Harry's care. She felt like she wasn't enough for him. Fortunately, Harry seemed to be. Albus gained back the weight he had lost, no longer branches and knobs, and his new and improved attitude made him seem like a different child.

The short periods she saw Harry and Albus interact, they were very caring and playful. Albus was very inquisitive, and Harry would patiently answer all of his questions. Harry was born to be a father, and she was glad that even though he wasn't her husband any longer, he could still be her child's dad.

Now they were sending their two sons off to Hogwarts, and she stood next to her ex-husband and youngest son, James having already run off to find his friends on the train.

She reached for Albus from where he clung to Harry's hand, and they released each other in order to let Ginny wrap her arms around him.

"Now, you be good, you hear? Study, and send me loads of owls home," she said, sniffling slightly. Albus still seemed so small, and he had never been as extroverted as James. She knew it was silly to worry so much, feeling as though she was channeling her mother—the Weasley matriarch was always so protective over her only daughter, and it had driven Ginny crazy. The irony was not lost on her that the cycle was repeating, only now the focus was narrowed down on her not-oft-seen son.

Ginny already felt as though she had partially lost him six years ago to Harry; rationally, she knew this was just another step in letting him go and grow up. It still hurt.

"I will, mum." He wrapped his arms around her tightly then let go after a couple of seconds. She kissed him on the head as she released him, letting him turn back to Harry.

Immediately, Harry reached down and messed up their son's already untidy hair. Albus' fingers curled into a fist on Harry's jumper. Something in Ginny's chest clenched at the sight of Albus looking up at his father in reassurance. Harry smiled down at him.

"You listen to your mum, yeah?"

Albus nodded, face beginning to do funny things. He then flung himself toward Harry, face burying in his stomach. Ginny heard the tell-tale muffled sniffles. Lily, who had been off talking to her cousins returned at that moment. "Why is Albus crying?" she asked. "Aren't only big kids allowed to go to Hogwarts?"

"Hey," Harry said softly, a tone Ginny had often heard directed toward Albus. Harry ran his hands through Albus' hair again, this time with the intention to smooth down rather than mess up.

"Lily, Albus is a big kid," Ginny said. "Sometimes it can be emotional moving from one thing that you know to another thing that you don't know. And that's what going off to school is like."

"Da," Albus moaned, and Ginny was sure she hadn't heard her youngest son sound so distraught in years. "Da, I don't want to go anymore. Why can't I just stay with you? You can teach me magic."

Ginny watched as Harry tenderly pulled Albus away to crouch down, running one hand softly down Albus' cheek, wiping the tears away, the other rubbing a shoulder. Harry always seemed to be able to lend Albus comfort where Ginny couldn't. That used to hurt, years ago, but now it just was how it was. Ginny had let herself grow numb to the fact that Albus obviously adored his father. She hadn't let the jealousy take over. After all, she had James and Lily living with her, and it wasn't as though Albus didn't love her. "Hogwarts will be amazing, Albus. It might be scary at first, but you will be so busy making friends and learning magic that you won't even notice how much time has passed. I'll see you at Christmas. Remember that you have James and your cousins to go to, as well, if things ever get too lonely or scary."

Albus let in a shaky breath. "I don't want them," he said. "I want _you_." More tears fell, and Harry wrapped his arms back around their son. Ginny glanced away from the emotional scene at the clock, checking the time. train knowingly blew its whistle.

"The train is about to leave, honey," Ginny said, turning to run her hand down Albus' back. "You need to hop on."

"You will be fine, Albus. We have the mirrors if you ever need to talk," said Harry. "If you want to talk tonight, I'll keep mine out."

"Promise?"

"I promise, Al." Harry turned his head to kiss Albus' cheek, and Albus returned the sentiment a moment later, finally releasing his father. "I love you. I know you'll have a great time."

"I love you, too."

The train blew its whistle again, and Albus Potter tightly hugged Harry one last time, releasing him after several nervous seconds. Harry and Ginny watched as their son cast Harry a fretful glance, putting his foot on the train's entering step. Tapping under his own chin encouragingly, Harry sent him a small smile, his youngest son finally taking the last few strides onto the train. Ginny grabbed Lily and desperately tried not to notice the lack of final acknowledgement directed toward her.

0-0-0-0

As Albus disappeared, Harry scanned the station and realized that his ex-wife was still standing a few yards away, sniffling with the sendoff and clutching Lily's head against her stomach. Lily was frowning and trying to escape subtly to no avail.

" _Mum_ ," Lily moaned. "Lemme go."

Ginny glanced down, surprised. "Oh. Sorry, dear." She let go of Lily, and the girl began smoothing down her hair with as much indignation as a ten year old could muster.

Harry, Ginny, and Lily waited until the train began moving and was out of sight.

If Harry felt as though a piece of him had left with it, there wasn't anything he could do about it.

0-0-0-0

The week had not been good. It began with a cold. Albus had woken up one morning with a sore throat and a nose so stuffed up he couldn't breathe through it. He got up despite his sickness to go to Potions, where stupid Dustin Finnegan spilt Bosnian Itching Powder all over his left side. Albus had to go to the Hospital Wing for a whole four hours while Madam Pomfrey cured his hives (and gave him a new set of robes—and pants, to his horror).

Albus had forgotten to ask for a Pepper-Up Potion whilst there, so he decided to just let his cold follow its natural course, which, it turned out, had been a poor choice. Two days later, he woke up shivering cold. His Hufflepuff roommates, concerned for him, made him stay in bed but absent-minded as they were forgot to get the nurse or tell his professors what had happened. This had ended with him missing a Transfiguration exam worth a quarter of his grade and sleeping through Charms as well as the Hufflepuff vs. Slytherin match that night that he had looked forward to all semester.

He managed, the next day after his fever had broken, to explain to his professors what had happened, and they let him off with a warning and a remake for the exam he missed.

Worst of all, Albus lost his mirror. He always kept it with him, but sometime between waking up with a sore throat and apologizing to his professors, his mirror had disappeared. He normally had it under his pillow, but when he checked it was gone. He had looked everywhere, sure that he hadn't been careless with it.

He asked his cousins and James if they had seen it, but his cousins said they hadn't and James had sneered at him.

"That mirror you talk to da with all the time? You still use that? What are you, five?"

Albus, furious and embarrassed at that, had shoved James as hard as he could and stormed off, red in the face. James just _didn't get it_. He never got on with their da as well as Albus did. He always lived with their mum, always made friends easily, always was a Gryffindor.

But Albus was a quiet Hufflepuff, and while he had made a few friends, they didn't come with intense or close relationships he could rely on. Harry was who he went to with all his problems. He was the one who could make him feel safe and seemed to always know just what to say to make him feel better. He loved his da more than anyone in the world, and James always had to be such a prat to Albus about it.

It didn't help that with each passing day since he had left on the train, Albus became increasingly homesick. He missed his London townhouse and the nearby park. He missed the loudness of the city and the hum of distant, constant traffic even at night. The way he couldn't see the stars except when his da took him up on the roof and created a light barrier so they could study the constellations.

In Scotland, at Hogwarts, he could always see the stars. It didn't seem fair.

Most of all, he missed his da and his comforting presence. The morning hugs and the goodnight kisses. Bowls of cereal with no socks as they sat side by side watching cartoons on the weekend and listening to Harry's record player at night, singing along loudly and off-key. How he felt never alone and always understood.

And now his mirror—his one lifeline to home—was gone. And he didn't know where it was. He quelled down the panic as much as he could and decided to write a letter home to Harry, letting him know. His da would fix it. Would know something was wrong when Albus didn't call him that night—Thursday, one of their nights to chat. He would just have to live without the mirror for a while. He tried his hardest not to let the very thought make him miserable and sought out to play a game of exploding snap with his fellow Hufflepuffs. Not the best week.

0-0-0-0

It took another three weeks to find out what happened to his mirror. Albus was cleaning his bed area before winter break. Tomorrow he would take the train back to London—to home.

Albus was moving his bed forward when he heard something heavy and metal crash to the floor behind it. Uneasily, Albus leaned over to see what had fallen and, sure enough, it was his mirror. In pieces. His heart sank. If he had any hope before, then it had all but evaporated at the sight of his beloved mirror, shattered all over the floor. Carefully, Albus found his Hufflepuff scarf and wrapped the glass fragments up, gently returning it to his trunk.

If he hadn't been returning home tomorrow, Albus didn't know what he would have done. Harry had not been very helpful in their correspondences. Although Albus wrote to him every day, and his da kept up fairly well, Harry had not been able to find a replacement mirror for him. And letter correspondence just wasn't the same as face to face interaction.

Sighing, Albus closed his trunk.

0-0-0-0

Albus was in a foul mood, and Harry didn't know what to do about it. Ever since they had gotten home from the train station and Albus had met Belinda, he had been rather caustic.

It had been fine at the station, when Albus had gotten off the train and thrown himself at Harry, clutching onto him like a baby koala.

"How was your semester?" asked Harry, hugging his son back. He looked over his head for James, seeing him a little ways away greeting Ginny.

" _Long_ ," said Albus, grinning up at Harry as widely as Harry had ever seen on his face. "I'm so glad to be back."

After that, Harry approached his other son, asking James how his year was going. As always, James was bubbly and rambled about his friends, Quidditch, and subjects.

There was definitely more to his explanation than Albus', whose worried him a bit.

Harry had then proceeded to bring him home where his new girlfriend was waiting. He met her through work, and she was gorgeous and smart and funny. Harry hadn't wanted to distract Albus from school, but now he wishes he had told him about her earlier, if only so Albus had time to process. Harry hadn't dated anyone since Ginny, and of course Albus wasn't going to be over the moon at first about Harry dating someone other than his mother.

"This," Harry said, when they had entered their townhouse, "is Belinda." Belinda stood up from the kitchen table where she was reading as Albus looked questioningly up at Harry.

"Hello, Albus," she said kindly, extending her hand. Albus hesitantly shook it, looking from Harry then back to Belinda. "I've heard so much about you."

Albus' clearly weak handshake ended when he abruptly pulled his hand back. He looked back up at Harry, and Harry began to realize how perhaps this was not the best way to introduce her to his eleven year old son.

"Belinda is my girlfriend," Harry said.

" _Girlfriend?_ " Albus squeaked. Belinda's smile faltered, but she already knew Harry hadn't told Albus about her.

It remained tense until Albus furiously grabbed his trunk and stormed up to his room as quickly as his little body could manage to drag the heavy object.

Harry sighed, looking at the crestfallen Belinda. "I'm sorry about that—I wasn't sure how he would react. He just needs time to cool down."

0-0-0-0

But cool down he didn't. Belinda went home for the night, as they both agreed that would be for the best. After a couple hours of hearing nothing from his son's room, Harry knocked on the door.

"Albus?" Harry called. There was no response. "What would you like for dinner?"

"Not hungry," said Albus pitifully.

Harry sighed, and he turned the door handle to let himself in, surprised to find it unlocked. Albus' trunk was still packed and his back was turned toward the door defiantly.

"You wanna talk about it?" Harry asked, sitting down on the bed and reaching out a hand to stroke Albus' back. He tried not to be hurt when Albus flinched away.

He grunted moodily, curling further in on himself.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about her sooner. It didn't seem right to tell you through a letter. She's not a bad person, though, Al. You should give her a chance." He kept his hands in his lap, not used to Albus acting so petty. Before Hogwarts, he was always well-behaved and up-beat. Harry had worried about him since he left, even more so when in their mirror conversations Albus' usually content demeanor had lacked its usual luminosity. In fact, Albus frequently appeared depressed and more than once had asked if he could come home, if only for a visit.

Harry had evaded each request, sure that Albus needed to adapt to his school and any visits home would hinder rather than help him in the long run. He stood by his earlier decision to leave Albus at school the entire semester, but that didn't prevent Harry from worrying incessantly about his son. He had never been away from home for longer than a couple days.

Albus mumbled something, and Harry didn't quite catch it. "What was that, Al?"

"You didn't send me a new mirror." Albus chose that moment to roll over and glare at Harry with red-rimmed eyes. Harry felt a sigh building up in his chest but forced himself to keep it down. Instead, Harry reached out and took Albus' little hand in his own.

Harry looked down at their touching palms. "I told you I couldn't find another one. The ones we used were inherited."

Albus' lower lip quivered. "But—"

He cut himself off, letting a few tears fall. Harry's heart was in his throat. He hated it when Albus cried. It made him ache. "What, Al?"

"Don't you want to talk to me anymore? You didn't let me stay home with you when I asked you not to send me to school and you don't even let me visit you and you don't visit me at school and I hate it. I _hate_ Hogwarts. James is mean to me and I miss you all the time and I feel lonely and now the mirror is gone and I can't even see you when I want and you clearly don't love me anymore because of—of—"

"Hey," said Harry, alarmed by the words coming out of his son's mouth. "Hey. Of _course_ I love you." Harry gathered Albus up in his arms, forcing him into a sitting position. "What brought this on? Why are you saying all of this? You were fine at the train station."

Albus' tears soaked the neck of Harry's shirt. "I _hate_ her." There was no need to ask who "her" was.

"You don't even know her," Harry said, trying to keep his tone soothing as his son snuggled tighter into his lap.

"I don't need to," Albus said. "She took you away from me. I want her _gone_."

"Albus…" Harry was unsure on how to deal with his son's demands. On one hand, he wanted to make his son feel better, and he hated that he was suffering, but on the other he didn't want to ruin his budding relationship with Belinda merely because his son threw a temper tantrum.

Although Harry was unsure. Albus wasn't the sort to cry and complain. Or he hadn't been before that day at King's Cross Station in September.

Unbidden, Albus at five years old flashed across his mind. The last time he had been depressed. He had hoped Albus had grown out of that separation anxiety when it came to Harry but he obviously had not.

"No one is going to take me away from you. You are the most important person in the world to me."

"Then why do you need anyone else?"

Harry paused, trying to think of how to explain it. "There are different types of love, Albus. You love me like a da, and I love you like a son, and—"

"You _love_ her?" Albus asked, tears coloring his voice.

"No, Albus, I don't. But I could one day, perhaps. And that would be a different kind of love than ours. The kind of love that I used to have for your mum."

"I don't want you to love her like you loved mum. I don't want you to love anyone like that."

This time, Harry did sigh. "Albus, do you want me to be alone the rest of my life? I'm not dating her to be cruel to you. I'm dating her because it makes me happy."

"Don't I make you happy enough? And you wouldn't be alone if you would just let me come back home. I don't _like_ Hogwarts—"

"Albus," Harry said, rather more forceful than he intended. Albus immediately stopped talking. Harry rarely had to use that voice with Albus. He lowered his tone. "Albus. You _have_ to go to Hogwarts. You have to learn to be with kids your own age. One day, I won't be enough for you. I'm just your da, Al. We have separate lives, and one day we won't live together anymore. This separation anxiety you seem to have developed has to stop. James didn't have any of this anxiety when he went away to school. It's all in your head, Al. You will _always_ make me happy, but there are other things that can make me happy, too. I'm not replacing you. You will always be my son."

Albus pushed away from Harry, and Harry's heart was like lead. His words didn't seem to have the right impact, and he was sure he messed up by mentioning James. He knew his two sons didn't see eye to eye on most things, what with Albus being sensitive and James being rambunctious. Albus rolled away and returned to his former position on the bed, back facing Harry.

"Go away," he said tearfully. Harry hesitated before standing up. He was almost out the door when he heard three quiet words that he never thought he'd hear come from his son's mouth.

"I hate you."

0-0-0-0

Later that night, just as Harry was just drifting off to sleep, he heard his door squeak and heard a flurry of footsteps. Immediately, he was awake, his survival instincts as sharp as ever. His racing heart slowed down as his son crawled into his bed and snuggled up to his side. Albus had nearly grown out of this within the last year but it had been known to still happen after a day of emotional upheaval.

Harry wrapped his arms around his youngest son, and Albus pushed his face into his bare chest, his cold toes tickling his legs.

"I'm sorry, da," Albus whispered. The only sound in the room was their breathing. "I don't hate you."

"I know you don't." Harry closed his eyes, placing a kiss on top of Albus' hair. "I'm sorry, too. I should have been more sensitive to what you need. If you aren't ready for me to date anyone yet, I won't. I'll tell Belinda it will have to wait until you're older."

Albus nodded, face hidden. "And Hogwarts?"

"I'm not withdrawing you from Hogwarts, Al. I'll see what I can do about visiting you a few times, though, if that would make you feel better." Albus grunted, clearly dissatisfied with the compromise but not wanting to press his luck.

Harry pressed another kiss against Albus' head, and he felt a returned kiss on his collarbone. It was like that that they then fell asleep.

0-0-0-0

Albus' second semester wasn't as horrible as his first, but not by much. He forced himself to go through the motions of friendship with the other boys in his dormitory, finding it really wasn't so bad and that he genuinely liked many of them.

They were often loud and silly, which Albus didn't mind so much, as it meant he didn't have to do much talking, and they were often funny. They seemed to like him well enough, too, and sat next to him at meals and invited him to hang out and study. Life wasn't as bright as it was in London, but he was coping with Hogwarts.

It was on one day near the end of the semester, right after their Defense Against the Dark Arts final that Albus was walking with fellow Hufflepuffs Quinton Puddington and Frank Watson through the castle and out toward the front doors to the lake, that a familiar face made an appearance on the lawn.

"Da!" exclaimed Albus. "What are you doing here?" Albus sidled up next to his father, glancing back at his friends, who were curiously looking at his famous father from afar. Albus gestured for them to continue onward, and they did with one more backwards glance.

Harry ruffled Albus' hair. "Just thought I'd surprise you and say good job after your latest exam—I know you were stressing about it."

Albus beamed up at his da, his chest filling with warmth. Harry had kept his promise to come visit throughout the semester, although he hadn't very frequently. It was normally on the weekends when he could take his son out to Hogsmeade with the Headmistress's permission.

Albus led Harry down toward a tree by the lake where they could sit and chat with two butterbeers his da had brought. Albus hadn't been happier in ages.

0-0-0-0

For a week every summer, Albus went to stay with his mum and siblings. This year was no exception, although Albus wasn't exactly looking forward to it. He always had to share a room with James, and he always missed home. But living at Hogwarts had trained him to be okay away from home.

He was four days into his visit, and he was helping his mum make dinner. They always did this together when he visited, as he liked to help in the kitchen, and they didn't have much in common, so this was always an activity they could happily share.

They were cooking with hot oil when it happened, Ginny finally trusting him with that job. He was twelve, after all. Al dropped his spatula on the ground and bent over to pick it up. On his way up, he knocked into the pan and the searing oil reared up to splash the right side of his face, immediately searing the skin. Albus cried out, backing away from the stove, clutching his face.

"Oh, dear!" Ginny cried, immediately turning off the food and inspecting the burn.

Ginny ended up bringing Albus to St. Mungos, unsure of her own healing skills when it came to burns.

When they got into a room, a healer asked if Ginny was his primary guardian.

"Da," Albus insisted. "I need my da." He was a bit tearful, clutching an icepack to his face. His mother looked over at the healer, ignoring Albus' words as she often did when he brought up Harry.

"I'm his mother," she said. The healer nodded.

"Did you call da?" Albus asked.

"Albus," his mum said, "you don't need him. I'm here. This nice healer is going to fix you right up."

Albus looked away unhappily as the healer treated his burns. It took half an hour for the salves to sink in before they were allowed to leave.

Once they got back to the house, Albus asked his mother where the extra Floo powder had gone.

"Why do you need Floo powder?"

"I'd like to go home. I need to see da." He was a little shaken by the hospital, never liking them, and really wanted to go home.

0-0-0-0

Ginny sighed, knowing that if there was anything Albus was, it was clingy. To Harry of all people. If she was completely honest, she found it a bit worrying. James and Lily were never as needy even when they were younger. Yes, they had their tantrums, but James had grown out of those, and Lily very rarely had them anymore.

But Albus. Well, he had always gravitated toward Harry even when he was very small. Harry could get him to calm down instantly when he was a baby when Ginny couldn't. Could get him to cheer up instantly when he was sad. It wasn't healthy, Ginny knew, but she didn't know what to do about it. She wasn't sure if it was her place. Harry had been the one who raised the boy.

So Ginny sighed, torn but surrendering. "I'll get it for you, Albie."

A few minutes later, after a brief hug, Albus twirled away in the fireplace.

Ginny stood for long moments afterward, staring at the empty fireplace, wondering if she had done the right thing.

0-0-0-0

Harry had perhaps not been surprised as he should have by Albus' sooner-than-expected reappearance in the living room fireplace.

After hearing about the burn incident, though, he could see why Albus wanted to return home, although he wasn't sure if he should encourage this behavior. Harry didn't want to bring up anything now when Albus was so shaken up, though, so he stored that discussion away for a later period.

Albus curled up next to Harry on the couch, and they finished the night by watching a TV movie. Albus fell asleep, head resting on Harry's shoulder, and Harry ran his hand through the boy's hair absently, thinking about Albus' recent behavior. He wasn't sure it was age appropriate, really.

But looking at his own childhood, Harry admitted he may not be the best standard precedent. He gave his children the very best that he could from the time of their birth, not wanting them to wish for anything. This was especially the case with Albus, as he had raised him largely without the help of Ginny.

Somehow, in spite of the fact that Harry sensed it wasn't normal the way Albus constantly looked to him for confirmation and affection, he couldn't bring himself to do anything about it. His son was precious to him.

Harry sighed, closed his eyes, and hoped this was just a phase.

0-0-0-0

Second year came and went without consequence. Albus returned home, taller than before, his voice cracking and trying its best to lower.

He greeted his father at the train station with a bit more reservation than the year before, fully aware at this point that most thirteen year old boys didn't wish to fling themselves onto their das at full force and hold on tight.

Albus forced himself to be satisfied with a brief hug that James and Lily were similarly greeted with, happy enough that his da wrapped an arm around his shoulders as they walked out of the station and back home to their townhouse.

0-0-0-0

Albus' first wet dream happened that summer. He woke up distinctly uncomfortable but feeling languid and body-loose. He had been having the nicest dream, where he was in a safe place that was warm, and someone had wrapped him up in their arms, pulling him in close and letting them be together. There were only the vaguest of images and ghosts of what-could-bes. He was confused, a bit, by what had happened, but ultimately didn't feel bad about it.

Only the familiar impression of the feeling of those arms led to a small trickle of dread to curl deep inside Albus' gut.

0-0-0-0

It was around Christmas time of that year that Harry began to notice. Albus hadn't quite grown out of his neediness, but there had been a slow but steady improvement over his behavior in comparison to first year. Albus still insisted on writing constantly and practically begged his father to come see him on Hogsmeade weekends, but there had not been the edgy child-like quality that had plagued the letters and queries from the first two years of his schooling.

Instead, his new worry began to manifest when he began to notice that Albus was acting as his shadow for the first week or so since he had returned for the holidays, always on hand to help. It had gotten to the point that he sometimes had trouble finding time to use the bathroom. On those occasions, when Harry called Albus out on this behavior, Albus would blush and walk away, only to reappear an hour later, nearby and wanting to do whatever Harry was doing or sit near him while they read.

And then there was the staring. That had almost been worse. Albus had begun to look at Harry for long periods of time, only to look away when he had been caught, that infuriating blush adorning his pale cheeks.

It was unnerving, if Harry were to be completely honest. At times, it almost seemed as though. . .

Harry would always dismiss it as an absurd notion. Unbelievable. Ridiculous.

Christmas Eve, Albus went to Ginny's as was tradition. Harry would get him back in the morning. His absence, while not exactly wanted, was somewhat of a relief after the week he had endured. The way Albus had been acting was making him edgy, but he didn't want to confront him about it and he couldn't figure out why exactly.

Harry ended up heading up to bed early, passing his son's room. The door was ajar. Later not even knowing why he did it, Harry pushed the door open and turned on the light. He crossed the room to sit on the bed, looking around the unassuming room. Albus' trunk lay haphazardly next to the bed, clothes spilling over the sides of it. There were fading posters on the wall of Quidditch teams and Wizard bands.

Harry absently reached over to pick up Albus' pillow, pulling it onto his lap. Sitting in his room did not make any clearer what had been up with his youngest son. Harry sighed, turning to put the pillow down and leave when he noticed a piece of paper lying where the pillow had been.

Curiously, and with a feeling of trepidation, Harry picked up the paper to find it wasn't a piece of paper at all. Or, rather, it was but was also a photograph, laminate on the other side.

At that moment, his stomach felt as though it had opened up and spilt onto the ground.

It was a picture of him. It had been taken a few years ago after an impromptu Quidditch match at the Burrow between all of the Weasley brothers and him. Harry was smiling in it, hair windblown and broom slung over his shoulder. Hermione had taken the photo, having gotten into photography at that time. She ended up handing out prints of what she developed at a later date.

Why Albus had this one under his pillow, though. . .

Harry bent over to put his head in his hands, not wanting to even think it.

His son couldn't. He just couldn't.

But the more Harry thought about it, the more doubtful he became of his own doubts. Albus had always been clingy. Perhaps this was just a natural progression of those clingy feelings. These would probably go away as well.

Even as Harry thought that, he knew that he was wrong. Even he knew that a son's feelings for his father didn't follow a natural course to—

He moaned a bit into the air, as though his frustration and fear could be released in a single sound.

Because, really, what did one _do_ when they realized, almost assuredly, that their thirteen-nearly-fourteen year old son had a crush on them?

0-0-0-0

Albus waved to his siblings and gave his mother a hug and kiss goodbye before hopping into the fireplace and Flooing home.

It was Christmas, which meant gifts, which meant his da and him alone all day until Christmas dinner when they had to make an appearance over at the Burrow for dinner with everybody and their neighbor.

Al couldn't be happier.

The living room was empty when he arrived home, so he bounded up the stairs to put his away bag back in his room.

"Da!" Albus called happily. "HAPPY CHRISTMAS."

Al reemerged from his room moments later to see Harry leaning against his own doorway with his arms folded and a strange half-smile on his face. Albus had never seen that expression on his face before, but he forged on. "It's Christmas," Albus said, as though Harry hadn't heard him shouting earlier.

Albus walked up to Harry and greeted him as usual, wrapping his arms around his da and expecting the same back. Harry returned the gesture after a moment's hesitation, causing Albus to frown and hold on all-the-tighter. His da and he had never been lacking in affection, and lately it seemed that Albus craved it more than ever.

So when Harry cut the hug short, Albus was taken aback but managed to brush it off with a smile.

"Happy Christmas, Al," he said softly, and Albus' heart warmed.

"Presents?" he asked eagerly.

"Lead the way."

0-0-0-0

They settled down on the floor near the tree to exchange gifts, backs against the sofa. Albus watched his father anxiously as he opened the present he just handed him. It had taken him _forever_ to find the perfect gift, and he had to go through an older Slytherin to achieve it. Their uncle worked in a specialty shop in Knockturn Alley where these were being sold.

Albus wasn't entirely sure it was a legal purchase, but he decided it didn't matter in the end.

Harry held up the two mirrors with raised eyebrows. "Where did you find _these_?"

Albus smiled, satisfied he could do what his father couldn't. "Oh, here and there," he said vaguely. "Do you like them? I know I broke mine a few years ago. I put enforcing spells on these ones, though. Much sturdier."

Albus began to grow nervous, though, when his da didn't immediately smile and thank him, as he had last year when he received a broom polishing kit. As far as Albus was concerned, that gift was dung in comparison to the mirrors.

"Don't you like them?" asked Albus, not quite disguising his dismay at the lack of reaction. His da had been acting unusual since he got home from his mum's, and it was beginning to unnerve him. Had he done something to make him mad? Albus had tried his very best to help his father from the moment he came home for the holidays but clearly that wasn't working in bringing them closer together. He thought these mirrors, though, would be the perfect opportunity to fix the distance he had felt growing throughout the last summer and semester, when Harry only visited him once in Hogsmeade, busy with work the other two times.

Finally, after an excruciating half minute, Harry looked over at Albus. He gave him a genuine, if tiny, smile. "Thank you, Al." Albus grinned back, the relief bursting back into him in a wave.

"My turn now?"

0-0-0-0

Dinner had already been eaten and served, and the adults were in the living room enjoying some spiked drinks while the school-aged ones were outside on the lawn engaging in a late-night Christmas snowball fight.

Except for Al, who had decided to glue himself to Harry's side from where he sat on the fireplace stoop.

"Why don't you go outside with the other kids? I'm sure they could use some help," Harry said.

But, to Harry's intense frustration, Albus just shook his head and lay it down upon Harry's shoulder. "I'm tired. And I don't like games like that, anyway. You know that." Albus said this all very quietly. Harry sighed and wrapped an arm around his youngest son's shoulders. He was no closer to figuring out what to do about what he discovered the night before. He couldn't just cut his son off—that would be too cruel. Albus, while perhaps too dependent on Harry, was still a child and still needed him.

He glanced around the room to see a few eyes trained on them, one of those being Fleur's. She smiled at them softly, and Harry smiled back. His eyes shifted a bit, and they met with his ex-wife's. The look on her face made him go cold. She appeared to be assessing them. He didn't like the way she was looking at Al in particular.

At that moment, Al chose to reach down and entwine their fingers together. "Can we go home, da? I'm tired, and all these people are making my head hurt."

Harry looked down at his son, unable to keep the fond look off his face at Albus' droopy eyes. Tired Albus always reminded him of when Albus first came to live with him all those years ago. Harry would read him a bedtime story every night, and he would never get the chance to finish it before Al was drifting off to sleep.

"Sure, Al."

Harry glanced back up at Ginny. She was looking right back.

0-0-0-0

The day before Harry's fortieth birthday, he was doing laundry. He had just folded up the last of Al's sleeping shirts and made his way up the stairs to put their clothes away.

He briefly knocked on Albus' door before turning the knob to enter. Immediately, after a frantic cry from his son, Harry turned back out into the hallway and _shut the door_.

He left the laundry outside his son's door and hurried back to his own room to put away his own clothes. He tried desperately to calm his own beating heart and stop his hands from shaking.

Because now he knew for sure. There was no mistaking what had flung from Albus' hand in the panic to cover himself up.

That picture.

0-0-0-0

Harry's previous course of action to _just ignore it_ no longer seemed to be a valid option. The thought of confronting his son about it filled him with dread, but he couldn't let this continue. His son was fourteen, and his feelings were wrong. He couldn't let them develop any further.

Even if that meant sending him to live with Ginny.

The moment arose to discuss it sooner than Harry would have liked. The next day, in fact, after everyone had gone home from the birthday celebrations. Al and he had cleaned everything up and were just resting in the living room, unwinding. Harry thought perhaps this was the time to bring it up, before he lost his nerve.

He sat up on the couch from where he was slumped and turned to face Albus. "So, Al, there was something I wanted to discuss with you." Perhaps this wasn't a good time, after all. But Harry was nothing if not a brave man, so he forged on. "How do you feel about going to stay with your siblings and mum for a while?"

That got his son's attention. Warily, he sat up and looked at Harry. "I already stayed with them this summer. For a week, remember?"

"Well, yes, but how do you feel about staying a bit more?"

"What do you mean?" Harry couldn't read his tone. He had a feeling this would end badly.

"Until the end of the summer. Until you go back to Hogwarts."

"No," Albus said. "Why on earth would I want to do that? Did mum put you up to this?"

"No, but—"

"Then _why_ would you possibly think I'd want to share a room with James for an extra month? You know I'd hate that." Harry hated the stony tone in his son's voice with just an edge of whiny. Albus never adopted that tone unless something was distressing him.

"It would make your mum so happy." The argument sounded weak even as Harry said it. Albus and Ginny weren't close, and while Ginny loved her son, she saw him frequently enough to satisfy her.

Albus was silent for a minute. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and sad, escalating gradually the more worked up he became. "Do you not want me here anymore? Did I do something to make you mad? I promise I'll fix it. Just don't make me leave. _Please_ , da, anything you want, I'll do it. Don't make me leave you. I'm already at Hogwarts for most of the year anyway. We hardly get to see each other and, oh, god, are you angry at—"

Harry cut off Albus' speech by embracing him. "Shh, Al. Nevermind. I'm not angry."

Albus sniffled, and Harry's heart sank even further if that were possible. "Then why do you want me to leave?"

Harry sighed, rubbing his son's back soothingly. They were quiet for a long time. After an indeterminate amount of time, Harry pulled away, letting Albus go completely, and spoke. It was one of the hardest things he had ever done. "These—feelings—you seem to have developed. They're not okay, Al. Not where they're directed."

Harry glanced at Al to see his glassy eyes shift away and his hands begin to fidget in his lap. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I _know_ , Al. I know." They sat there for long minutes. Harry wasn't sure what else to say to him.

"Do you hate me?" Harry looked up at Albus to see sudden tears rushing down his cheeks. Harry felt his heart breaking.

"No, I don't hate you, Al."

Al noisily sniffled, more tears rushing down his cheeks. Harry felt terrible about hurting his son, but there was nothing to be done at this point.

"Do you love me?"

Harry smiled sadly. "Of course, Al, very much. You're my son."

"Are you in love with me?" The words were so quiet, Harry almost missed them. They jarred him. Harry closed his eyes and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He shook his head. "Because I'm in love with you, da," Albus said, voice stronger. Harry felt his world collapsing around himself with those words. Those terrible words. "I love you more than anything. Why can't you see that? Please—please, da—"

Harry felt a soft—so very soft—touch to his hair and then neck and then back. A moment later, he felt arms wrap around him from the side, a face bury itself in his shoulder blades. "Please don't hate me."

0-0-0-0

Albus was on the verge of hyperventilating. Harry knew. Albus must have been so obvious. But he couldn't help it. His da was everything to him. He was so kind and gentle with Albus and made him feel so special and smelled so nice and was so handsome. He was just so _so_. Everything with his da was more than everyone else.

Of course Albus didn't mean to fall in love with his da, but last summer he had started to notice a soft glow around Harry. Eventually, he realized that the soft glow wasn't real and just stemmed from the nice feelings he had around him. The way his stomach would pleasantly turn over whenever they touched or how his heart would race whenever Harry laughed at something Albus said or how he seemed to only have eyes for Albus sometimes or how—

His dreams. They were only ever vague impressions of the real thing, but Albus knew that he wanted them to become a reality more than anything. He wanted his da to hold him and tell him he loved him, too, and that nothing would ever take him away from him. He wanted to be kissed.

But how the reality was now diminishing the fantasy. How ridiculous of Albus to even have fathomed that his feelings were returned. And now he had ruined everything, and Harry wanted to send him away and—

Oh, god. Oh, god.

He didn't realize he was sobbing hysterically until warm arms came to hold him and big hands began to wipe away the tears on his face.

"Hush, Albie," came his da's soft voice. "It's alright. It will be alright."

Albus tried to speak, his throat choking around the words.

"We'll work through this together. I promise." Albus began to calm down to normal levels as he breathed heavily into his da's neck.

"I'm sorry," Albus moaned. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

"I know, sweetheart. I know you are. Everything will be okay."

0-0-0-0

When Albus began to hyperventilate, Harry couldn't maintain the distant façade anymore. He let his instincts take over when it came to Albus, gathering him in his arms and reassuring him.

While Albus' feelings were inconvenient and difficult, there had to be a way to move past them. Harry knew he was Albus' rock. He was the person Albus turned to when he was hurt or in trouble or sad. And while this may not be completely normal, Harry wasn't about to throw his son out if it would hurt him.

They would both have to move on. And, more than anything, Harry would have to make sure to set the proper emotional and physical boundaries when it came to their relationship. They had always been very close and had never been shy about touching. Harry vowed to reign in some of his affection—not too much—not so much that it would hurt Al—but enough that perhaps Al wouldn't feel so dependent on Harry and would let him go the older he got. Al was only fourteen. He had time to grow out of this.

0-0-0-0

James had always thought his brother was weird. Ever since he was a little kid, Albus would always get emotional over the stupidest things. He would easily cry and didn't like playing the same games as James and just wasn't ever any fun.

And when Albus moved out to live with their da, the distance only grew between them. James loved his brother, he guessed, but he didn't understand him. He was always hanging onto da and following him around like a baby. If James did that with mum, he would be embarrassed. His da didn't overtly show preferential treatment or anything toward Albus, but Albus definitely showed preferential treatment toward da.

Weird, like James said. It only got worse at Hogwarts, and James knew that da began to visit Albus sometime toward the end of first year because Albus asked him to. No one else's parents did that unless they came to watch them play in a Quidditch match. And James knew that Albus had been being difficult about staying at Hogwarts from overhearing his mum talk to aunt Hermione. Who _didn't_ want to stay at Hogwarts? It was an enchanted castle and all of James' friends were there.

So when Al didn't seem to be making a fuss when getting onto the train that year—James' sixth and Albus' fourth—James knew something was off. Normally Albus clung to da until the last second as though he could put off ever going back to Hogwarts. Not that James minded the change in his Hufflepuff brother, but there was a stiffness between da and Albus that hadn't been there the last time he saw them together. His da wouldn't meet Albus' eyes, and Albus made sure to keep a couple feet distance between them at all times.

After a brief hug from Ginny and Harry to their three children, they sent them off to the train.

James turned to Albus once they were out of earshot of their parents and climbing onto the train. "What's up with you and da?"

"What do you mean? Nothing us up." Albus wouldn't look at James. Seemed to be deliberately avoiding him.

"Well normally you'd be hanging onto him until last minute begging to stay home. It's like you couldn't get out of there fast enough today."

Albus shrugged and began to walk away.

"Finally growing up, eh?" James teased, following his brother's path through the train. "Ready to fly away from home? Leave the nest? Had enough of being a daddy's boy? What, did he finally give you an ultimatum to the fact that he couldn't stand you acting like a needy baby anymore?"

James wasn't ready for the wand at his throat, nor the tears in his brother's eyes as he was shoved up against the wall. Passing students glanced at them curiously. "Leave me the _hell_ alone."

"Or what?" James asked this cautiously, not used to his brother fighting back against his taunts. He was sure Albus had never threatened anyone before in his life.

A moment later, he was proven right when all the anger seemed to slump out of Albus, and his want weakly lowered. "Nothing," Albus said, and James was horrified to hear his voice teary. "Nevermind. See you later, James."

It didn't occur to him until hours later, after his brother had dejectedly walked away from him in the train corridor, that da probably _had_ given Al an ultimatum of some sort. What else could have provoked such a strong reaction from his brother?

0-0-0-0

When Harry picked his son up from school a year later, things still didn't feel normal. Despite talking in the mirrors his son had acquired every few weeks, exchanging letters, and seeing each other during Christmas break, there was still careful tension in their every interaction. Albus seemed afraid of upsetting Harry, and Harry was afraid of the same thing with Albus.

Last summer, Harry had further talked to Albus about boundaries. What was okay and wasn't okay. He had told him that if he couldn't respect those boundaries then there was no way they could continue living together. Albus would have to go live with Ginny if he didn't work on getting his feelings under control. Harry knew this wasn't the best solution, but he didn't know what _was_ and he didn't want to bring anyone else into the situation. Family and friends had often expressed concern about how needy Albus was with Harry, and Harry hadn't wanted anyone scrutinizing his son or their relationship more than they already had been.

He briefly considered consulting Hermione but quickly eradicated that idea. While he trusted Hermione, he didn't want to make her keep anything from her husband. He wouldn't want it to get back to Ron, which would inevitably end up with the entire family knowing. He wasn't sure what the proper protocol was when one's son fell in love with them, but he knew he didn't want to betray Albus by telling anyone.

If Albus could move on, then it would be like it never happened.

Except it was obvious that Albus still hadn't moved on. From the train station onward, Harry still picked up on the longing glances—more subtle now than before—that had plagued him last August and during the holidays. Albus tip toed around him and didn't touch him or make any bold declarations, but he would do things for Harry that were almost _too_ thoughtful. Which, Christ, was a silly thought.

Every morning, Albus would wake up early and turn on the coffee pot, pouring Harry a cup before he even sat down.

"Two sugars, no cream," Albus said the first day he did it. "Just how you like it." Harry couldn't remember the last time he drank coffee around Albus before that first morning.

Albus would pay the prophet Owl, too, and then proceed to put away all the dishes in the dishwasher without being prompted.

One day, he came downstairs to Albus doing the laundry, which was a first. Harry blinked, surprised.

"Just thought you could use the extra rest is all," Albus said, as though this was explanation enough.

His son's feelings continued to make themselves known, mostly in the forms of chores, which Harry couldn't exactly complain about. But he knew where his son's desire to do chores was coming from, and with that he found issue.

It was the fourth week of this sort of thing going on, when one night Albus was organizing the bookshelf ("By author, then by title. So you can find all the books for your research."), that Harry lashed out.

"Albus, could you stop _for one bloody second_."

Albus paused in shelving one of the books to glance over his shoulder at his irate father. "What?"

Harry sighed, feeling silly for putting his hands on his hips but unable to help it. "I don't need you to do any of these things. You're a _kid_. You shouldn't want to serve me food or do the laundry or clean the furniture."

"Are you asking me to _stop_ being responsible?" Albus asked slowly.

"No. I'm asking you to stop acting like my bloody housewife. You can't _do this_ , Albie."

Harry felt like an arse when Albus' eyes lowered and the book in his hand fell limply by his side. "I'm following your rules, aren't I?" This was the first direct mention of what they had discussed last summer _since_ last summer.

Harry let out a breath. "The rules aren't there so you can find ways to act around them. They're there for you to _stop_. Stop feeling however you're feeling. They're there to make you and me get better. For our relationship to go back to normal."

Albus' eyes shot up to his then, fiery across the room. Harry couldn't look away. "Well. Those didn't work, okay? I tried to be normal, da. And it got me nothing. You don't laugh with me anymore, and we don't play anymore. You don't touch me ever, and I never touch you. I've stopped being clingy. I _have_. I've changed for you. I did all that you asked. But what do you expect me to do? I still love you. _So_ much. And I can't just turn off my feelings. I did as you asked, and it's still not enough. Why can't you just love me back? I'm trying so hard for you to just love me back. . ."

Albus was barely holding it together. God, Harry felt like such a dick. It was always back to _this_. His urge to do the right thing but never knowing what the right thing was. He thought he was helping Albus by making those rules. Perhaps he should have sent him to Ginny's last summer, anyway. It would have hurt him then but maybe they would be back to normal already. Just father and son.

The memory of Albus first year, begging not to go to Hogwarts came to mind. So little and scared, his tiny hands clinging to Harry as though he could save him. Perhaps this was inevitable. Harry was lost on what to do at this point. He didn't know what to say to his son. Anything his head came up with just didn't seem right. Too insensitive.

Albus cautiously approached Harry. Harry let him get closer than they had been to one another in a year.

"It's killing me, da," Albus admitted, voice barely a whisper. Albus dropped his forehead onto his father's chest, arms still dangling by his sides. "I don't want to be sent to live with mum. I never want to leave your side. Please. Please just be okay with me. We never have to do anything like that if only you'll stop being mad at me and don't send me away. I—I couldn't—bear it—" Harry lifted up a hand to run gentle fingers through Albus' soft, black hair. Albus' hands came up to fist in Harry's shirt on his flanks.

"Alright, Albie," said Harry. There was a surreal quality to his life as Harry said this. It seemed as though this was happening to someone else. His hand that wasn't his hand reached down to coax Albus' chin so his face looked up at Harry. Albus looked confused, his red rimmed eyes framed by scrunching eyebrows. Perfectly symmetrical lips. Upturned nose. Harry could see the adorable kid in him. But Albus was fifteen now. Still so young. Not so young.

"What do you want?" asked Harry, his voice a whisper. As though sound would break this moment into a thousand pieces. Like it was fragile. Harry supposed it was. His mind had one big film of crust around it. At any moment it could crumble, and logical, rational thought could come rushing in.

"Kiss me," said Albus.

And Harry did.


End file.
